Safe
by Milady of the Valley
Summary: An injury on patrol threatens to expose Jacqueline but d'Atagnan is determined to make sure that doesn't happen...no matter what reprecussions it may entail...
1. Second Thoughts

**CHAPTER ONE: Second Thoughts**

Jacqueline stood by the open window, marvelling at the joy outside. It seemed as if she were a prisoner here sometimes. She longed to get out, to dress as a girl again. But most of all, she just wanted to be free. Everyone at the garrison had been great to her but none of them, save for d'Artagnan, could ever know who she really was. Why had this happened to her? Why did Mazarin have her father killed, her brother captured? Why didn't she do something to stop it? That was her biggest problem: she blamed herself. She wanted to speak to Gerard again, to have him reassure her that it wasn't her fault. Sure, d'Artagnan told her this all the time, but it wasn't the same. She needed to hear it from one of the men whose lives she had ruined, and she couldn't exactly ask their father...

Jacqueline breathed a heavy sigh and pulled the cord to lower the dark blue curtains. The room was instantly darkened and she wished for their father's study, the room that never seemed to dull with the night. She would spend hours there as a child, trying to overcome her girlish ignorance by learning to read. She taught herself much, having no mother to do it for her. It was as she was thinking this that there came a soft knock at her door.

Jacqueline knew that there could only be one person who would knock like that. But why so late? What did he want now? She decided not to answer it. Maybe he would get the hint and walk away. Better yet, let him think she was asleep. She carefully walked over to her bed, careful not to make a sound. The knocking ceased and she heard quiet retreating steps. She was paying attention to this sound and not to the table in front of her when she tripped. Her wash basin came crashing to the floor and she heard louder steps returning to her door.

"Jacques? Are you alright in there?"

"Go away, d'Artagnan. It's late and I have patrol with Ramon in the morning."

"What's wrong, mi amigo?" There was a second voice now; Ramon's.

"I was walking back to my room for the night when I heard something in Jacque's room. He's probably alright but I just wanted to make sure."

"Ah, smart thinking, mi amigo. I was doing the same." The men spoke to each other now.

"Ramon, d'Artagnan; what's going on?"

"Well, I was just walking to my room and Ramon here was –"

Jacqueline let out a huff and through open the door. "I am _fine_! If you three would just go to bed so that the rest of us could –" She stopped when she saw her three friends staring hard at her. She froze. Had she forgotten to tie up her hair? Did she lose her manly voice again? Was her cover blown? Then Ramon began to laugh. Siroc hit him in the stomach and began to drag him off down the hall. Ramon's whines could be heard long after they had turned the corner at the end of the hall.


	2. New Arrangements

**CHAPTER TWO:**

D'Artagnan noticed her expression and set her mind at ease...for the moment. "Don't worry, Jacqueline. He was only laughing at what you said. You know, you sounded like Duval just then. " He saw that she looked slightly embarrassed and smiled to himself. He had found another weakness, another part of Jacqueline that she hid from the rest of the men. The fact that she was beginning to show signs of weakness around him meant that she trusted him enough to be herself with him. She was finally becoming comfortable around him. She knew that he would not make fun of her or laugh at her. Instead, he placed a single hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eye. "I was actually coming to talk to you before." He told her. "I wanted to ask you something." He waited for her to respond. She nodded her head and he continued. "I wanted to know if you would come with me to a party tomorrow night." He saw her beginning to back out and he hastened his speech. "It's an assignment from Duval. He said to ask a member of the Musketeers or a 'young maiden'. I just figured that, with you, I could have both." She looked away for a moment and then stepped back so that his hand fell to his side once more. "D'Artagnan, I do appreciate the offer but –"

"Jacqueline, don't turn this down, too. It's not me asking you out again or anything. I simply want company on my assignment. Just think about it, alright? If you're worried about me or anything, don't be. I promise I won't try anything." He couldn't help the smirk that slowly crept onto his face. She tried to get mad, she really did. But she found herself smiling in spite of herself. She sighed for the third time that night and said, "Alright, d'Artagnan, but you only get one shot at this. If you so much as look at me differently, I swear I will never go on another assignment with you again, no matter how _lonely_ it may be!" he grinned at her again and she smiled.

"Tomorrow night, then," he said.

"Tomorrow night," she echoed


	3. Patrols

But their next meeting would come sooner that she thought. Ramon, being the person that he was, had finally found the excuse he had been looking for. Like the rest of the musketeers, save for Jacqueline, Ramon loathed patrols. D'Artagnan did, too; except when he could do it with Jacqueline. So when Ramon complained of a sore stomach the next morning because of an 'incident' that had occurred the night before, d'Artagnan gladly hastened to take his place.

"So..." d'Artagnan looked over at his riding companion that morning. "D'Artagnan, if you have something to say, just say it." Jacqueline spat back at him. "Whoa, try not to bite my head off, alright?" D'Artagnan put a hand up in surrender as if to emphasize his point. Jacqueline sighed. She had been thinking about her family again. She did this often on patrol and got unusually testy if anyone interrupted her. "I'm sorry. I was just..." to her amazement, d'Artagnan didn't press her further. She liked the fact that he let her alone at moments like this. He understood that she needed some toe to herself once in a while and respected that. Until he grew bored again, that is. Which came sooner than a child in the back of a stuffy carriage on a four day trip to his grandmother's farmhouse.

"So..."

"D'Artagnan!" Jacqueline shouted.

"What? There's no need to yell! If you wanted to talk to me, all you had to do was ask." That devilish grin crept over his face once more and Jacqueline found herself smiling in spite of herself and her resolve not to. "There now, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Oh, d'Artagnan, you know just how to annoy a woman, don't you?"

"What women?" He pretended to look around him for a member of the fairer sex. Jacqueline shot him a glare and her companion burst into a deep laugh. It was a sound that she had grown quite accustomed to over the last months they'd been together. It filled her heart in a way she'd never known anything to before. She smiled to herself again. It was brief, but d'Artagnan saw it anyway. He loved to make Jacqueline smile. She seemed to constantly carry the burden of her family's misfortunes with her. She tended to have an everlasting sadness about her sometimes and he hated to see her like that. He wished that he could make her happy all the time. He knew that she would never forget her past, but he wanted to at least ease her mind a bit. That's why he had invented that evening's assignment. He spoke to Duval the morning before and told the captain that he thought Jacques needed a night out, seeing as he never took advantage of the weeks they were allowed each month. Duval had agreed. He had noted recently that the lad wasn't always in the best of moods lately, as well. D'Artagnan kept this fact from his friend, not wanting her to back out as she always tended to do when he proposed something that would leave the two of them alone together...in a manner of speaking. It seemed to him that the only time she was alone with him other than on patrol or occasionally in the garrison dining room was when she walked in on a rendezvous of his at the cafe to warn him of said woman's suspicious nature. Facts that she always correctly assumed, much to d'Artagnan's everlasting chagrin...at least, he _pretended_ it to be. He actually liked when she stepped in like that. It showed that she cared at least something for him, even if it _was_ just as a friend. He would take what he could get.

Jacqueline couldn't imagine why her companion loved to vex her so. He always seemed to come up with new, creative plans to pursue her. _Well_, she thought, _he shouldn't tease about things like that. It's a good thing I know not to take him seriously. I feel so sorry for girls like Charlotte_. She shook her head at the memory of the woman. Of course, she herself had been the object of her affection as well. But she couldn't really do anything about that, could she? She looked over her shoulder at d'Artagnan. She could definitely see what those girls saw. He was handsome; she'd give him that. But he could be so...irritating.

D'Artagnan caught her looking at him and nodded to her. She felt the colour rise in her cheeks and she spun back around to face the road. Something she should have done seconds sooner. She suddenly came face-to-face with a large tree branch, obviously becoming extremely detached from its tree. Her horse whinnied and reared back on its hind legs, sending Jacqueline flying off his back.


	4. Accident

D'Artagnan cursed himself for not seeing it either. He pulled his horse to a stop and jumped to the ground. Jacqueline was unconscious on the dirt path. He slid his hand beneath her head and raised it up a little. The back of her head was warm. D'Artagnan looked down at his hand, at the blood that covered it. Jacqueline's blood. _Oh, God_, he thought, _let her be alright_. He tried to wake her every way he could, to no avail. He finally decided to seek shelter somewhere close by. He couldn't very well continue his patrol with her in this state and there was no way he could bring her back to the garrison. Siroc would want to do an inspection. Something that would go...rather differently than expected.

He finally found a spot in the hill that curved, serving as a sort of cavern. He laid his jacket on the ground and hers below her head to serve as a pillow. He sat there beside her for a long while, praying for her to awaken. He knew that many people did not revive from injuries like this and just hoped that it was not so serious that it couldn't wait until they were back at the garrison to be treated. Sure, she had fallen off her horse in duels before; they all had when that enchantress had taken control of their animals and then them in turn. But not like this. None of them had been seriously injured then. He pulled his legs to his chest, resting his elbows on his knees, trying to determine the best course of action...one that wouldn't end with her dying a different way altogether. He looked at her again and then placed his forehead in his palms – a symbol of defeat. A soft moan made him jump a moment later. Jacqueline stirred on his coat. _At last_, he thought. She turned her head towards him and groaned again. She moved to grab her aching skull but someone else got there first. She couldn't tell who it was through the haze, but she heard them utter her name. She blinked and brought his face into focus.

"D'Artagnan?" she whispered, her throat sore. D'Artagnan leaned in closer, telling her not to speak. He told her what had happened and made sure that she could recall it all. Satisfied that her memory was still intact, he began to question her about everything else.

"No, my ankle is fine. Yes, I can lift my right arm. No, I can't think straight, not with you on my case like this, I can't." D'Artagnan let out a deep sigh. Jacqueline was fine. He helped her to her feet and over to her horse.

"Jacqueline, I really don't think it's a good idea for you to ride alone this soon."

"Well, d'Artagnan, I don't think it's a good idea for me to ride with you _anytime_."

He laughed. "Touché." She was back. He helped her onto her horse and moved to mount his own. Jacqueline suddenly gasped, a sharp pain hitting the back of her skull like a hammer. D'Artagnan dropped his reigns and was at her side again in seconds. He pulled her off the horse and held her to him for a moment.

"I told you this wasn't a good idea." He whispered down to her. Jacqueline was only a few inches shorter than him, he realized. Just the right size to hold like this. He took in her scent, marvelling in the warmth she radiated. She felt the same. She made no move to pull away from him, allowing him to hold her as he wished. She was just thinking how nice it was to be in his arms when another sharp pain seared through her and she felt her legs go weak under her. D'Artagnan helped her to the ground once more.

"What are we going to do, d'Artagnan? I can't go home like this." _ Home_, he thought, _what a funny word for the garrison_. He supposed it was home, though. He lived there with Jacqueline and the other musketeers. He barely remembered his life before he came to follow in his father's overrated footsteps. His friends were there – his brothers. They were a family at the garrison, so why shouldn't it be home, too? That's exactly what it was. Paris was home. The musketeers were home. Jacqueline was home.

He shook the thought from his mind and went back to his horse. He unhooked the saddlebag quickly, as only one with years of experience can, and sent the mare on his way. Once it reached the garrison, his fellow musketeers would know not to expect them back too soon. Unlatching the saddlebag usually meant – amongst the musketeers anyway – that the rider had decided on other plans or that he was unexpectedly held up somewhere. It also meant not to worry, not to come after them. With all the trouble the musketeers seemed to get into – particularly the four friends – this acted as a security feature, as well. If any enemy was to send the horse off, abandoning them with danger, they would not stop to unsaddle the horses first. When a fully-kited horse returned without its rider, the others knew that trouble was afoot. Which was why, though she was injured, d'Artagnan sent it off bare. If anyone other than Siroc were to come running, matters would become even worse. Siroc still was unaware of Jacqueline's secret, but at least he could be trusted with it, unlike many of the other men. Nothing could come of Duval or one of the others finding their comrade in such a state. This way they would just think that the two had decided not to return to the garrison before heading out for their 'outing' after their patrol. No one would worry. No one but d'Artagnan.


	5. A Familiar Place

D'Artagnan rode them out of the woods on Jacqueline's horse. He knew they couldn't stay there for long; Jacqueline just seemed to be getting worse. There was only one place that he could think of to take her.

--------

When Jacqueline woke up, they were riding past a picket fence into a garden. She looked around and then up at d'Artagnan. He knew that she would appreciate him taking her to the place she loved the most. She had grown up in this house and was never able to get time out to come here. Not to mention the fact that the neighbours might find it strange to see a musketeer exploring an abandoned house alone. D'Artagnan dismounted then gently helped her down. He let her sit on the porch steps while he quickly tied her horse up in the stable.

When d'Artagnan helped her into the house, Jacqueline felt that she was finally home again. She had established a relationship with the men back at the garrison but she always found a way to detach herself when she wanted to forget it all. But this was the one place she could never forget. She had grown up in this house and now, with Gerard overseas and her parents with God, the family farm was hers. She knew at once that she would one day come back here. When it was safe, she would find away to come home again and start a new life. She wanted to fight for justice, but she wanted her family more. She would start her own one day, she resolved; she would find a man and raise their children here. Sadness overcame her once more, thinking about these things. She could never have a family here. By the time it was safe for her to be Jacqueline Roget again, the farm would be sold as uninhabited. Mazarin would see to that. And even if it wasn't, how could she find a man if she was one herself? As it was going so far, she would be old and no longer able to bear children before she would ever hear the word "free" spoken of her female counterpart. Who would want her then?

The sound of the door shutting pulled her from her thoughts. D'Artagnan looked at her and sensed she wasn't exactly at peace. "I'm going to see what I can do about food. Why don't you get changed or something. It looks like we might be here a while." She nodded and slowly made her way into her old bedroom at the bottom of the tall staircase. D'Artagnan watched her go, glad that Jacques LePont would be transformed into Jacqueline Roget once more.


	6. D'Artagnan

He took his time gathering the food. Thankfully, nobody had thought to stop the growing of the vegetables on the farm. He found that he enjoyed picking them for Jacqueline. He had never thought about a life on the farm before. He had grown up among musketeers in the city and knew nothing else. He thought about what it would be like to live there with Jacqueline; to grow food and raise his children on the farm. Their children. He shook the thought away. Jacqueline knew nothing of these ideas and he was glad of it. He didn't know how she would react to it but he knew that it would probably end the friendship and trust that had formed between them. He couldn't bear it if Jacqueline went back to keeping everything to herself. At least now she told him_ some_ things. At least he knew when she needed him. If she went back to the way she was when she first arrived, who knew if they would stay friends. He knew Jacqueline wouldn't be comfortable with him anymore. She probably would stay as far away from him as she possibly could. He definitely didn't want that to happen.


	7. Trouble Afoot

The whine of a horse outside startled the pair. D'Artagnan reluctantly pulled away from Jacqueline and peered through the rough curtain and out the window. A carriage stood behind a line of red-clad soldiers. Mazarin.

D'Artagnan spun around to Jacqueline who was now standing just behind him. She had seen them too. They had to move fast. The guards would only take seconds to find the musketeer horse in the stable and then they would charge through the door, demanding an explanation. One they couldn't give. Not with Jacqueline dressed as a woman.

There was no time for modesty. D'Artagnan helped her out of her dress and back into her uniform, careful to avoid touching the tender spot at the back of her head. She drew up her hair and d'Artagnan went to the kitchen, pretending to be entirely immersed in his lunch. When the guards came through the door, they found a 'startled' musketeer at the table, halfway through a sandwich.

"In the name of His Excellency, Cardinal Mazarin, we demand to know what you are doing in here. This is no place for a musketeer."

"Don't you mean His Majesty the King? And there are two of us here. If you're going to threaten someone, at least get it right."

"Two of you?" The guard that spoke had an expression of both annoyance and awe on his face.

"Another musketeer; don't get so excited." D'Artagnan was disgusted at the man's obvious delight at the thought of finding him there with a woman. He just hoped that he wouldn't discover how correct his first assumption had been.

"Where is your companion then, soldier?" It was obvious that these weren't the brightest men the Cardinal had ever enlisted. He would have to point that out the next time they were speaking.

"He's in that back room. Don't go back there!" One of the men made for the door but stopped at the sound of d'Artagnan's voice. "And why not? Are you afraid of what we may find in there?" He turned once more and placed his hand on the doorknob. D'Artagnan tried to mask his concern. "Not at all, my friend. But my comrade in there has had a bit of an accident. He's resting right now." The Cardinal's guards laughed and d'Artagnan had to fight even harder to stop himself from attacking them. "Accident; you don't say! And what type of accident might this have been?" They were laughing at her now. He could deal with them laughing at him but not at Jacqueline.

"What business is it of yours? I told you he is indisposed and that should be enough for an honest man. Unless, of course, you are telling me that the king's soldiers should gain a new reputation. Just think, a bunch of heartless fools working for a 'man of God'. "

The guards glared at him but continued towards the door anyway.

Although d'Artagnan knew the coast was clear, he still didn't like the idea of one of Mazarin's men finding a musketeer in such a vulnerable state. It would just be too easy for him to come up with another reason to disband them.

The guard inched closer to the door and reached out a hand towards the doorknob. D'Artagnan held his breath, not knowing what would happen next.


	8. A Close Encounter

D'Artagnan was inside the tiny bedroom and at Jacqueline's side so fast that he couldn't remember how he got there. From what he could see, she had fallen, tried to keep upright by grabbing onto a small table by the bed. The table was now on its side and the glass vase that had been propped so nicely upon it was now shattered on the wooden floor. Jacqueline was on her knees amongst the shards, clutching the back of her head with one hand.

"Jacqueline! What happened?"

"I – I don't know."

D'Artagnan bent down and picked her up, turning sideways and placing her on the bed behind him. He sat on the edge beside her and moved her head onto his lap. He stroked her hair softly and watched her eyes slowly drift closed. He smiled to himself and thought once again about a life with her as his wife. And now that he knew she shared his feelings..._No_, he thought to himself, _how can I be so selfish? That would mean exposing herself to Mazarin and risking her life_. No matter how much he loved her – and he knew now that it really _was_ love – he could never do anything about it. This broke his heart and, for the first time since childhood, d'Artagnan felt a single tear trace the edge of his cheek as he looked down at Jacqueline's now-sleeping form. Her eyelids fluttered in a dream and he quickly brushed the tear away. Well – at least he would enjoy this while it lasted.

A few hours later, Jacqueline awoke to a delicious aroma coming from the kitchen. She sat up slowly, expecting the familiar sharp pain at the back of her head. Surprisingly, when she lifted her hand to the wound, she found it tightly bandaged. Had d'Artagnan done this? _What a foolish question_, Jacqueline chastised herself, _of course it was him_. She looked around the room and found that he had also pulled her dress back out from behind the pillow and laid it over the back of the old rocking chair in the corner. She listened for a moment then, when she was sure it was safe, she walked over to the chair and quickly slipped into the dress. This time she was determined to tie the strings herself. Taking a deep breath to calm her, Jacqueline reached behind her. This time, memory took over. When she was presentable – as presentable as any woman with a bandaged head, no hair brush and a wrinkled gown could be – she made her way towards the kitchen and found d'Artagnan sitting at the table.

He smiled as she approached and pushed a steaming bowl towards her.

"Well, Sleepy Head, how're you feeling?"

"Better, thank you."

They exchanged a smile then both quickly looked away again. "So," Jacqueline began, "What's all this?" D'Artagnan smiled once more before indicating behind him. "I made dinner," he said simply. He looked so pleased with himself that Jacqueline couldn't help returning the smile.

----

The food was delicious; Jacqueline was surprised, to say the least. She said as much to d'Artagnan who merely grinned. "My father wasn't around much when I was young," he explained, "I basically lived alone with my mother for all those years before she died. I couldn't help learning things like cooking."

"_Things_? As in more than one?"

"Ha! Yes, well, you've got me there. I'm a pretty good housemaid, too. " he laughed again.

----

An hour later the pair found themselves seated next to each other on the floor of the parlour. D'Artagnan remembered another night much like this one. King Charles had been in France and had asked Jacqueline to become his wife. He had thought then that he would lose her forever. Now, however, he realized that, had she left with Charles then, Jacqueline would now be safe from Mazarin and have a life beyond anything he could ever hope to give her. But it had been Jacqueline's own decision to stay, hadn't it? She had chosen to remain in France without his help. But why?


	9. Good Friends?

The whine of a horse outside startled the pair. D'Artagnan reluctantly pulled away from Jacqueline and peered through the rough curtain and out the window. A carriage stood behind a line of red-clad soldiers. Mazarin.

D'Artagnan spun around to Jacqueline who was now standing just behind him. She had seen them too. They had to move fast. The guards would only take seconds to find the musketeer horse in the stable and then they would charge through the door, demanding an explanation. One they couldn't give. Not with Jacqueline dressed as a woman.

There was no time for modesty. D'Artagnan helped her out of her dress and back into her uniform, careful to avoid touching the tender spot at the back of her head. She drew up her hair and d'Artagnan went to the kitchen, pretending to be entirely immersed in his lunch. When the guards came through the door, they found a 'startled' musketeer at the table, halfway through a sandwich.

"In the name of His Excellency, Cardinal Mazarin, we demand to know what you are doing in here. This is no place for a musketeer."

"Don't you mean His Majesty the King? And there are two of us here. If you're going to threaten someone, at least get it right."

"Two of you?" The guard that spoke had an expression of both annoyance and awe on his face.

"Another musketeer; don't get so excited." D'Artagnan was disgusted at the man's obvious delight at the thought of finding him there with a woman. He just hoped that he wouldn't discover how correct his first assumption had been.

"Where is your companion then, soldier?" It was obvious that these weren't the brightest men the Cardinal had ever enlisted. He would have to point that out the next time they were speaking.

"He's in that back room. Don't go back there!" One of the men made for the door but stopped at the sound of d'Artagnan's voice. "And why not? Are you afraid of what we may find in there?" He turned once more and placed his hand on the doorknob. D'Artagnan tried to mask his concern. "Not at all, my friend. But my comrade in there has had a bit of an accident. He's resting right now." The Cardinal's guards laughed and d'Artagnan had to fight even harder to stop himself from attacking them. "Accident; you don't say! And what type of accident might this have been?" They were laughing at her now. He could deal with them laughing at him but not at Jacqueline.

"What business is it of yours? I told you he is indisposed and that should be enough for an honest man. Unless, of course, you are telling me that the king's soldiers should gain a new reputation. Just think, a bunch of heartless fools working for a 'man of God'. "

The guards glared at him but continued towards the door anyway.

Although d'Artagnan knew the coast was clear, he still didn't like the idea of one of Mazarin's men finding a musketeer in such a vulnerable state. It would just be too easy for him to come up with another reason to disband them.

The guard inched closer to the door and reached out a hand towards the doorknob. D'Artagnan held his breath, not knowing what would happen next.


End file.
